The Gift of a Thistle
by Kmikaze KAtie AAPPG 42
Summary: Pretty angsty, but not too romantic. A relfection and a more indepth look at Murron Gift to William Wallace- The thistle at his father and brother's gravesides.


The Gift of a Thistle

William heard the priest end his Latin funeral service. William himself didn't understand a word of it, but it was the most horrible thing he could have heard at the time. It meant that his father and brother, the only family he really knew, were gone. What was to become of him? He, a mere boy of eight, couldn't take care of a farm all by himself. He had done it while his father and brother had been fighting and had been killed, but that was just one day. He had so many days left in his life. He couldn't take care of the farm. What if the English took it upon themselves to do it for him and as payment they'd never have to give it back? He couldn't fight off the English alone. There was no way. The group his father had amassed couldn't do it, and they were men. How could he? 

William stood silent and numb and still as a rock while everyone else left. He felt Hamish put his hand on his shoulder, but very distantly so. He didn't stir or even turn his eyes towards Hamish. He kept his eyes on the bodies of his brother and his father, on shrouded bodies in their graves. As Hamish left, as everyone left, he still stood there, silent and numb to the world on the outside, but heartbroken and in anguish and misery in the inside. He felt as if he were going to burst from the pain at any second. Why? Why had it happened to him? Why? He tried not to cry out his pain, but it was so hard. 

William stood at the head of the grave, just behind the marker is silence as he watched the grave diggers shovel dirt onto the shrouded bodies of his father and brother. This had to be on of the worst days of his young life. He wanted to die. It was all he could do to scream his fathers name and fall to his knees sobbing. He wished he were being buried with his father and his brother. He wished he were dead. He was so a lone; so alone and in so much pain and misery. He felt like his heart would burst in anguish as shovel after shovel of dirt was piled on. He wanted to sweep at every sound of the dirt hitting the bodies. He stood there, alone, wanting to die. He might die of his pain and grief. He remembered putting his hand on his father's breast. He had expected it to be warm, but it was cold, so terribly cold. It wasn't supposed to be cold. It was wrong. It hadn't sunk into William's mind at that time that his father was dead. He expected his father to be warm; to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and to feel at heartbeat… but all he got was the lack of a rhythm, stillness, silence and coldness. 

A little ways off, though William didn't notice her in his misery, was little Murron. She saw him standing there, and she felt his pain. She had always felt she had a connection to him, and she hurt inside for him. She wished there were someway to make him feel better. Anyway at all. No matter how small, she wished that she could reach out. With all her heart she wanted to find a way to comfort him. Very close to the graves was a thistle bush. She knew then what she could do. She quietly left her mother and sister's side and quickly ran up the hill. She took a long look at William while picking the thistle. It was hard to manage, but she finally got it. Murron then walked quietly over to William, and gazed up at him. After about a split second or so, William noticed her and looked down to see her. Their eyes locked as she reached up to him and offered him the thistle. Her eyes were as full of comfort and condolences as his were of misery, pain and anguish. He reached down and took the thistle from her. For a second his eyes hinted with a vague feeling of comfort. She had reached out to him and William was truly touched by her gesture of… was it Love?.. Friendship?… Comfort? Whatever it was, William was grateful. I tear brimmed over his eye and fell. Murron looked at him one last time and then went back to her mother.

William looked after her as Murron as she walked solemnly back to her mother who was waiting with a somewhat proud look on her face, proud of her empathetic child for reaching out to William with out hesitation, and easing his pain. He felt this thistle in his hands as he watched the family walk away. Of all the gifts he had ever gotten, this was probably the most wonderful and precious. The Gift of Love… The Gift of a thistle. 


End file.
